


gasoline rainbows

by statusquo_ergo



Series: nostalgia for heretics [1]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 09:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statusquo_ergo/pseuds/statusquo_ergo
Summary: It doesn't rain too much, this time of year.





	gasoline rainbows

**Author's Note:**

> Suits Bingo prompt: Mike/Harvey

The Belvedere lounge melts into shadow as daylight fades into the East River, marching lines of whitecaps that vanish just as quickly as they appear without making any real impact on anything. Harvey sits on the balcony in his stiff wood-and-metal folding chair and wonders, with all the apathy towards the universe that comes with the end of a long day’s work, if he’ll ever sleep again, as long as he lives.

The city is so goddamn bright.

Every floodlit window, every glowing streetlamp is a beaming searchlight honing in on the targets on their backs, a silent assurance that there’ll be no rest for them, the wicked offenders, as they play this foolish game, gambling their lives away along with the lives of everyone around them who never asked for any of this. The lives of their friends who deserve better. They’ll end up standing together in front of a loaded handgun, all of them drawing straws for the honor of taking a bullet in the head to prove themselves the most noble in all the land.

Don’t worry. It’s just a figure of speech.

It doesn’t matter. Harvey’s got the habit of throwing his life away down to an art; he’s been playing with house money, living on borrowed time, a dead man walking for so long that he doesn’t even remember how to be any other way. What it feels like to be free, unburdened by false smiles and cold regrets and empty rooms.

What a terrible thing to be an expert at.

The city sprawled out before him, beneath him, his kingdom on high is filled with people living their lives full of sorrow and joy, heartache and pain, love and laughter. The buildings sparkle and the traffic lights glow, the water catching spears of light from the Brooklyn skyline, from the dockyard that never seems to sleep and from the construction yard that never seems to wake, and Harvey allows himself to simply exist, to be in this place, at this time. Living this life. These choices.

The door opens with a plasticky clicking sound, and Mike steps out carefully as though this city where he’s lived his entire life is still something wondrous and amazing, still waiting to be discovered.

“You alright?”

Harvey slides down in his seat a couple of inches, digging his heels into the narrow divots between the wooden slats, and nods.

“Yeah.”

It’ll be his fault, when they get to the end of the line. Hauling himself to stand up tall before that loaded gun, he’ll eat the bullet for them all because he’s due, because it’s about goddamn time, but this isn’t such a bad hill to die on. His own doing, his own terms; he’ll take what’s his, what’s coming down the line, going out of this with his eyes wider than they were when he went in.

Walking to the balcony’s edge, the glass wall invisible in the dark, Mike leans forward and sets his arms down along the paper-thin railing, and Harvey clasps his hands together around the instinct to remind him to be careful.

They’ll be alright, when it’s over. Mike will be alright. Harvey found him in the gutter and pulled him out, out into the fire, but when that fire’s finished burning and their world has turned to ash, Mike will be able to find his way back. Mike will always find his way. That’s what’s important.

Mike stands silhouetted against the night with his shoulders hunched up to his ears, breathing deep the crisp air and looking out into the future as he does his best to find some peace with the past.

“Is this why you hired me?”

For a night like this, because you never know.

I don’t know. I don’t, I don’t. Please, if you don’t mind, if you have a minute to spare, please open your heart to me and my stupid mistakes and my selfish desires, and understand that I never meant for my foolishness and arrogance to doom us to become tales of infamy and a stern word of advice.

Harvey smiles, blinking to clear his vision.

“I saw myself in you.”

I did it because there was no other way.

Mike laughs softly at nothing in particular, and Harvey keeps his hands pressed down tight until Mike moves away from the railing.

“Something funny?”

It isn’t really. Maybe someday, when they’ve all moved on to bigger and better things, but not now. Not tonight.

Mike walks slowly across the balcony and comes to a stop by Harvey’s chair, lowering himself down and sitting on the wooden slats. No; it isn’t funny.

“You saved my life.”

Harvey lays his hand on the side of Mike’s head, guiding it down to rest in his lap. It was a temporary fix, that’s all. A pit stop on the road from moment to moment because what’s the harm in fooling ourselves that this can go on forever if we do it right? The view from here is nice, isn’t it, high up above that place where all our troubles lie. The city is so goddamn bright that they’re impossible to see, all those things wrong with the world, so let’s stay here awhile longer, why don’t we, let’s close our eyes and absolve ourselves in the dark.

“Right back at you.”

Mike rests his arms on Harvey’s legs and looks up into his eyes.

“I ever thank you for that?”

For all the things we’ve lost, and everything we’ve found.

The firing squad has already sent out a casting call, marksmen lining up in the wings for the chance to take a shot at our impudence, to cut us back down to size. Remind us that every silver lining comes with a dark cloud underneath; part and parcel, a package deal.

Harvey strokes his hand through Mike’s hair and looks out over the lights sprawled out beneath them. This might’ve all started as some stupid lark, but their eyes are open wide now and they’re still standing on the front line, propping one another up until one day they limp bloody and battered down the home stretch and finally get to see what’s on the other side instead of just pretending that they already know.

“I think I got it.”

When it comes right down to it, what else were we supposed to do?

It’ll all be okay in the end, when we get there.

One of these days.


End file.
